


On the Diet of Seamen, by Dr S.E. Maturin, FRS

by feroxargentea



Category: Master and Commander - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:36:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feroxargentea/pseuds/feroxargentea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Only be sure always to call it please ‘research’.”</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Author’s note: There’s no excuse for this sort of thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Diet of Seamen, by Dr S.E. Maturin, FRS

“Will you not come back to bed, Stephen?” said Jack Aubrey. He stretched out and yawned until his jaw clicked. “Or at least put your slippers on. You will be the one complaining when your toes get chilled.”

“One moment,” muttered Stephen Maturin distractedly, scribbling another note in the margin of his notebook with a broke-backed pen. “The eleventh of the month, is it not?”

“The thirteenth, or the fourteenth by your land-reckoning; I heard eight bells ring a few minutes ago,” replied Jack. “Why a man who cannot tell one day from another must leap out of his warm cot in such a goddamned rush to write his journal is beyond me.”

“Fourteenth... just so,” murmured Stephen. “I beg your pardon, my dear, I shall be but a minute. A philosopher should record his observations whilst they are fresh in his mind, as some ancient sage no doubt remarked, even if his name escapes me at this late hour.”

“You was not marking me, was you, Stephen?” asked Jack with a cheerful leer. “Give me an alpha, there’s a good fellow. I shall never get my step without my friends are kind to me.”

“As to that, I shall write such a glowing review of your prowess that you will be mentioned in despatches!” Stephen flourished his pen enthusiastically, spattering ink onto the watch-rotas, purser’s slips and other documents covering Jack’s table. “A dozen would-be admirals will be yellowed just so that you may be made Rear-Admiral of the Blue within the year.”

“Ah ha ha! What it is to have influence! It is perishing cold in here, though, and your own rear will be blue if you do not come back to bed soon. What _is_ it that you are writing, Philosopher?”

“Oh, merely an addendum to the research I have been undertaking for the Admiralty into seamen’s diets. You will remember I told you about it before we sailed, Jack – a systematic review of dietary intake in the healthy and sick, with particular reference to scurvy, ague, the bloody flux and the marthambles. The particular line of investigation in these tables is likely unpublishable, but there will nevertheless be a number of people most interested in its conclusions.”

“Diet? Why – why, you have not been feeding me with madder like those wretched rats of yours, have you?” asked Jack, clearly alarmed at the idea.

“Madder? No. No, I have not extended the research as far as colour, although now that you mention it...” Stephen tapped his pen against his lips thoughtfully. “Some sort of chart would be required, of course, to ensure objectivity. A simple watercolour matrix would perhaps—”

A creak behind him, the padding of feet across the deck, and a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Doctor Maturin, I must insist on knowing: for what sort of experiments, exactly, have you been using me?”

“Oh,” Stephen said, as if surprised that an explanation was necessary. “Taste, Jack, do you see? I record the stronger dietary items _here_ – onions, garlic, curry and the like – and subsequent observations _here_ , and note the time delay required for intestinal absorption and dissemination.”

“Dis – dissemination?”

“Dissemination, quite so. A subjective matter, naturally, and one in which it is sadly difficult to obtain accurate reports, people being so ludicrously prudish about it; and then there is the problem of whether to rely on reports from women or to risk exposing sodomy. There are so few females of my acquaintance capable of sufficient detachment. Oh for another Clarissa Oakes, for a dozen Clarissa Oakes! I have my own notes, of course,” Stephen waved the book, “but one can hardly extrapolate from a single test subject.”

“Test subject, am I, Philosopher?” Strong hands hauled Stephen none too gently to his feet and propelled him to the bulkhead. “And you are in need of a second opinion, I collect?”

“Umm. Yes. Ow, Jack, you are – ohh. Yes. Yes, a second opinion.”

The pen fluttered unnoticed to the deck, leaving a trail of inkspots down Jack’s nightshirt. Stephen flung his head back against the planking and closed his eyes.

“Yes, more research is definitely... definitely... mmm... needed.”


End file.
